


Whispering Leaf Fall

by Misterjk



Series: ⨯ ⨯ ⨯ no evil [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: OC-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 02:06:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17951591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misterjk/pseuds/Misterjk
Summary: There's not many things that can make Siervaas visually annoyed, but she clicks her tongue in annoyance while she reads of the daily Newscoo. As a fruit seller, that Teach was going to give her bad business.





	Whispering Leaf Fall

Siervaas has lived long enough and done more than enough jobs to know that  _ this, _ this is the life. She stretches in the morning sun and looks over the railing of her ship to see Frej already selling fruit to a small gathered crowd. 

There is nothing better than making thousands of belli off of free goods, she thinks as her unwitting partner in crime wraps another melon in newspaper to hand off to the little old ladies in front of them. Frej is a small thing with a big heart. 

Now, Siervaas has been in the business of deception long enough to make a good show of a smile, but Frej’s smile is genuine and warm and probably the annoying reason for her charisma despite being completely mute. A wrinkly hand reaches out to hold hers after the exchange of belli and fruit is made and she only smiles warmly. The little old grandmothers practically swoon at her feet for being so endearing despite saying nothing.

“Oh, Frej, you and that girl always bring us the freshest fruits!”

There is a murmur of agreement before Frej looks up at the ship and makes eye contact with Siervaas. It’s only awkward for the briefest second that she’s caught staring and Frej sheepishly grins at her. The pink haired teen turns back to the kind crowd and points up behind her. Siervaas’ position is outed and she covers up a small grimace as the attention of the crowd turns to her. She did wake up late, so she supposed she deserved it. 

“I don’t know how you do it sailing on the seas for days and days,” is called up to her and she only grins back with a wink and finger over her lips. 

“Trade secret!” She sings out in reply before jumping down to land behind the crates of fruit with Frej. 

There are a few teasing jeers before conversation dissolves into inviting the ladies over for tea and meeting some no-good grandsons and perfect angels. Frej laughs an airy thing with no voice and Siervaas only shakes her head, formally declining their invitations with a few smooth words. 

While she’s grateful for their business, Siervaas is a long, long way from the intention of settling down anywhere. She lived and breathed on the seas and in the shadows of dark conversations and trades, she wasn’t sure if she  _ or the world _ was ready for her to settle down just yet. For now, she just so happens to make all of her income selling fruit. 

She steals a glance back at their small ship. She happened to make  _ a lot  _ of income selling fruit.

It’s late in the afternoon when they start packing up what’s left of their fruits. Frej picks up a heavy looking crate and Siervaas swipes it from her with a grin. The younger girl gives her the closest thing to a scowl that she can manage, which really isn’t much but huffs and goes to pack a lighter crate anyway. It’s not that Siervaas thinks she can’t hold it, she knows she can, but it’s the principle of the matter! 

Siervaas winks at the small crowd of gossiping grandmothers, “Get home safely, ladies!!”

Her call is met with a chorus of ‘yes’ and a few ‘boos’ from declining their invitations. She grins and laughs as she walks up the plank and disappears from their view. This was fine. It really was. Siervaas, while interested in people, wasn’t really that interested in being  _ with _ people. 

She adjusts the crate in her grasp, shuffling a bit to get a door open to get below deck. Her glove gets stuck in a splinter from the crates, but it’s torn free with a flick of her finger eventually. The dark rooms they used for storage are cool from being underwater and out of the sun, but certainly not cool enough to keep all of their produce as fresh as they were. 

The room is given a cursory smell-test as she sets down her crate of round pears. Most everything smelt fresh still but...she narrows her eyes before stopping in front of a crate of apples. She digs through the pile and, sure enough, finds a small batch of rotten apples starting to spoil the entire batch. 

She reaches down with a gloved hand and picks up a rotten apple. It seems to shiver in her hand before twisting in on itself and suddenly becomes plump and fresh again. She bites into it with a satisfying crunch and a hum as she unspoils the entire crate and does another check on the fruit in their storage. It's easy to make some money off of vendors trying to get rid of spoiled fruit and Frej's devil fruit ability certainly helps too in adding to their wares. 

Siervaas crunches her teeth into the core of the apple as she pushes a crate into place with her foot and ties her dark green hair up with a red scarf. It’s length isn’t unbearable—it sits a little below her shoulders, but it was getting in the way with all the ups and downs she was going through. She thinks about Frej’s pink pigtails and shakes the thought out of her head. There was no way in the Grandline that she would wear her hair in pigtails. 

There must have been something in her expression when Frej comes down with another crate. The younger girl stares at her for a long while, Siervaas’ hands still in her hair, before she shakes her head and pushes pass. Siervaas finishes off the core of her apple and swallows with a grin while batting at her pink hair. 

Frej makes something like a frown at her as her crate of peaches are set down, but Siervaas is already out of the room to get the next crate, laughing the whole way out. 

It doesn’t take much longer between the two of them to shuffle their goods back onto their ship especially with the help of a few nosy sailors, but they aren’t allowed anywhere past the grassy deck of their ship. She knows they’re all curious. While their ship isn’t extravagant or large, it’s covered in greenery. There’s literal grass on the deck, vines with grapes of all colors hang off of railings and small fruit trees and shrubs. There’s even a small hutch to cover where two box towers sit, housing their collection of bees. She catches them eyeing the bees warily and she laughs, because she understands—getting stung by those tiny mites is a literal pain. She doesn’t know how Frej can walk around them so calmly and even pull honey out with her bare hands. She shudders a little at the thought. 

But eventually, their morning and afternoon sales are all taken care of at the docks and most everyone has gone their separate ways. Frej has started taking care of their expansive collection of plants, which means it was now time for a more private transaction. She gives Frej a friendly tug on her pigtails and is immediately soaked with a hose. The green haired woman definitely deserved it, but she laughs anyway with Frej, a silent thing, and ducks into the ship. 

Their shared quarters is a modestly sized room with everything set in pairs: two beds, two dressers, two desks, etc. It would be simple to share a few things, but Siervaas still feels uncomfortable with the thought and Frej of course doesn’t pay any of it a single thought. Siervaas is glad that there is only a wall display of orchids in their room, the grass is nice on the deck…but maybe no dirt in the bedroom. 

She steps out of her day clothes—it takes a bit more effort than she’d like, what with being damp and all. Taking off her gloves feels like shedding her own skin. It suctions to her hands in an awful way and she’s sure she hears it tear even more. Eventually her heavy clothes hit the ground with a wet  _ ‘shloRp’  _ and she changes into something better suited for a tussle if needed: a black turtleneck, gloves, pants, and knee high boots—all lined of course with hidden daggers. Better safe than sorry. 

Siervaas takes the lantern from her desk and continues with a whistle as she heaves her armoire to the side to reveal the hidden trap door below it. She descends into the small room basked in the small, warm light of her lantern. It’s another fruit cellar but unlike the other room, there were only a dozen stands here pressed against the walls of the otherwise claustrophobic room. On each stand was a unnecessarily plush pillow make of silk and on top of each pillow? A peculiar fruit of strange swirls, colors, and shapes. 

It’s a blue swirled devil fruit that she picks up. The light of her lantern flickers dangerously low as she turns it over with one hand, checking for any imperfections. It was once a beautiful melon—and it almost killed her when she had thought about having it for breakfast one morning only for it to suddenly change before her. She patted it with a grin. That was in the past though. She was going to make a pretty penny off of it now. 

She grabs a thick cloak from this room to throw over her shoulders and a white fox mask to cover her face. The hood is large and when she pulls it over her head, there’s not a feature of herself that can be seen. The devil fruit is put into a chest, the trap door covered and the lantern back on her desk. She leaves the ship without Frej or nary a soul knowing. 

In the short time they’ve been docked, it’s not difficult at all to find her target. Everyone on the island knew what he was and what he did—the wealthiest man on the island with a penchant for attending dubious auctions to spend inordinate amounts of belli. All she had to do was drop her calling card and he was searching the island day after day for her. She’d let him wait long enough, let him simmer in anticipation. 

She waits for him to enter his home that night to drop from some trees and stalk behind him. Picking his locks is an easy task—and of course the man is prepared for her as she steps into his foyer. Two men dressed in suits aim their pistols at her while the man in question leers at her from behind them. 

Not the cleanest transaction, but she is not caught off guard. She is a professional and he a fool. She pulls out her calling card, stiff paper with a red amaranth leaf pressed into it, two gloved fingers barely visible from her cloak. The man all but shoves both his guards out of the way. 

“Where is it!” He looks around her person, but doesn’t dare touch her. He doesn’t know what would happen if he would touch someone who has such deep ties with such cursed items like devil fruit. But excitement is written all over his face. A new addition to his growing collection. 

“Amaranth…” he calls her by her trade name, “You did bring one right??”

Siervaas smiles under her mask. He’s so  _ easy _ . She turns the calling card around to show  _ ‘150,000,000  _ _ ฿’  _ and  _ ‘gomu gomu no mi’ _ written in fine script. He snatches this from her and brings in obnoxiously close to his face as she retracts her arm back into her cloak, those same two fingers dancing over the hilt of a dagger patiently. 

He looks at her nervously, before swallowing with almost a giddy smile. This is why you made them wait. Made them more twitchy for it. And  _ sometimes  _ it does backfire, but this would not be one of those times. He waves one of the guards off, who reluctantly leaves before returning with a suitcase. 

“...how will I know?”

**_Kh-thudD_ ** .

She relishes the jump from the rich fool and his guards as she lets the chest with the devil fruit hit the tile floor beneath them. She pushes it forward with her foot, just enough to reveal half the chest from her cloak before stepping back, an arm extended for the suitcase. 

Once it’s opened by a guard to reveal its contents, the rich man all but shoves her out of his home with her newly claimed suitcase. She smiles under her mask as she counts one-hundred fifty million bellis. Her good mood energizes her on her return to the ship and is only slightly thwarted by the guilt she feels when she sees the ship. She sees the silhouette of her wet clothes hanging out on a line to dry. She  _ may _ have left all of her soaking wet clothes on the floor. 

She tiptoes back into their room to see the dim light of her lantern. Frej is already in bed, chest rising and falling slowly in her sleep. She feels a little bad already when she sees her wet clothes pinned up, but then she sees her gloves on Frej’s desk a sewing kit closed beside them. A quick inspection reveals a small green leaf sewn into the tan gloves to otherwise seamlessly cover its previous tear. 

Alright. She feels a bit guilty, but Frej is too precious. Siervaas shoves her cloak, daggers, and mask into her armoire for now to put away later and nearly jumps  _ on _ Frej. 

You can hear the air escape Frej’s lips as Siervaas compresses her chest in a hug, “Aww, Frej, you sweetie. You did all this for me?” 

The pink haired teen looks at her bleary eyed for a second, blinking away some sleep before nodding her head with a yawn. 

Siervaas sits back a bit as Frej rolls her head over to look at her better, “You didn’t have to, you know...and I’m sorry for leaving a mess.”

Frej smiles sleepily at her before patting her on the thigh, reassuring her that it was nothing. Frej was already a cute little thing, but her sleepy mode was unrealistically cute. No wonder the grandmothers always wanted to steal her away. 

She was pulled into another crushing hug—Siervaas felt her back pop a few times—and a kiss was planted on her forehead, “We’re eating  _ nice _ tomorrow, alright! On me!”

* * *

The next morning comes and Siervaas almost misses sleepy Frej getting ready because all she wants to do is be lazy for a little bit. Getting into the fruit selling business has admittedly made her a bit too comfortable, she really ought to train some more. But for now, she blinks slowly a few times to watch Frej trip herself up in her sheets, falling gloriously on her face. She lies there for a bit before begrudgingly pulling herself up and shuffling to the bathroom and eventually returning to cut a few slices of fruit and berries to leave on Siervaas’ bedside. What a cute kid. 

Siervaas eventually gets ready herself. Her secret business is put away properly and she stashes a few thousand belli and two daggers on her person. They only get through the morning sale, because Siervaas swoops down, fashionably late to the sale and announces to the little old grandmothers that she is taking Frej to explore the town and have a delicious lunch. They’re swarmed with a few suggestions and invitations to their homes while the teenager laughs soundlessly into the back of her hand. 

She likes meat, but minds her portions around Frej. The girl spent her entire life on fruits, vegetables, and fish. She’d never had  _ red  _ meat, delicious roasts and thick meaty stews before leaving her island with Siervaas. The last time she’d tried to feed her a meal, without even thinking about it, Frej had thrown up and was sick in bed for days. Because of it, Frej was wary of other meats, but would still try them for Siervaas’ sake. Which she is eternally grateful for, because she doesn’t know if she could live off the meager diet that Frej was raised on. No wonder she was tiny. 

The steak in front of her though is  _ delicious _ . It’s tender and melts in her mouth and the flavor seeps into her taste buds. It’s almost euphoric and she’s glad to see that Frej is enjoying her lobster with just as much wonder. There are a few stares at first, Siervaas is leading the entire conversation and laughing to herself. But eventually people catch on that the girl making gestures with her hands is mute and her silent laughs only accompany Siervaas’ own. Their lunch is long and pleasant and it’s only when their dessert comes out that a different group waltzes into the restaurant. 

She quickly loses interest in the group of men parading about their forty-five thousand belli. While the rest of the establishment tries to ignore the rowdy crowd, Frej is blatantly staring at them. She brings another fork of tender lobster to her lips and continues to stare as she chews. Sometimes Siervaas forgets that Frej hasn’t learnt the same social etiquettes that she has. Frej is undoubtedly intelligent and well-learnt...in her specific niche, but she really just didn’t know how to people sometimes. Siervaas blames all of it on the crazy man that raised her. 

Frej catches her staring and blinks a few times at her before grinning. She signs quickly and Siervaas almost misses it, ‘This is delicious. Thank you.’

The crowd of men eventually sit down to eat a little ways from their table and Siervaas manages to not scowl at the host that seats them. They’re almost finished with their meal so it’s fine. She can also see the glint in Frej’s eyes. The teen is curious. She wants  _ something _ to happen. 

So why not humor her. 

An opportunity arises when a customer from before enters the restaurant. He’s an elderly man with his wife and comes over to make small talk with their table. It’s when she sees the pirates eyeing the older woman’s purse that Siervaas leans forwards and takes a hold of one of her wrinkled hands. 

“I hear the young master got his hands on a devil fruit last night. Real scary business, you know.” She almost kicks Frej’s leg from under the table. The teen’s eyes dart over to her so quickly, she can practically hear it happen. Don’t blow her cover!

The older couple share a look before chuckling to themselves, “Oh, I’m sure he’s just going to add it to that collection of his.” “He’s too dumb to do a thing, deary, don’t you worry.” They couldn’t have made it any better. Siervaas could see the interest piqued in the pirates. What an easy, dumb lot. 

They share a few laughs before Siervaas shoos them off to enjoy their lunch. She can practically feel the curiosity from Frej like a wall. Would it happen now? Tonight? Tomorrow? Would there be a raid? Siervaas gives her an amused look before cutting off another piece of her steak. Frej look sheepish for a moment for forgetting where they were and returns to her lobster. It’s a cute thing and Siervaas can’t help but let out a small laugh at her companion’s expense. 

* * *

It’s the next morning that Siervaas starts thinking about when they should leave. Besides the newly docked pirates, there is another ship with a black sail. She doesn’t recognize the smaller vessel, but she recognizes the newer one. A newly famous ship: the Red Hair Pirates. She remembers Red-hair Shanks a little bit. He was that boy from Gold Roger’s crew. He was a scrawny thing then. 

She doesn’t come down from the ship just yet. She’s busy observing. Calculating. Frej, the sweet girl, lived under a rock her entire life and doesn’t even realize when the captain himself walks up to her. She smiles brightly at him while he starts a conversation with her and briefly surprises them both when he quickly picks up that she’s mute and signs back to her. 

He catches on that Frej hasn’t met many that know sign language and humors her for a bit, spending a few hours talking aimlessly with the small teenager with bright eyes. She doesn’t even notice when fewer people come to the docks out of fear of pirates. When the afternoon starts to roll by, Siervaas descends and politely interrupts—Frej immediately looks embarrassed at how distracted she was from just talking to a stranger. She starts to sign an apology to Siervaas and the woman bats her arms down with the back of her hand. 

“It’s fine to talk to people, Frej. Not the end of the world. But we should be getting ready to go,” she turns to Red Hair Shanks who only looks mildly amused and somewhat interested, “Sorry Mr. Pirate. If you’d like to buy some fruit, you’re welcome to it, but-”

“Setting sail so soon?” He asks with a raised brow, “What’s the rush?”

Siervaas smiles as Frej looks between them with wide curious eyes, “Well, it seems there’s going to be a raid soon.” She makes a small gesture with a nod of her head at the other pirate ship docked a few ships down. “Some other pirates are looking at the rich, young heir on this island. He’s got some sort of collection or another.”

Frej’s eyes sparkle and Siervaas swears she can see light blinding her briefly. It’s all in her head of course.

“That’s too dangerous for us folks though, so we’ll be leaving. Say your goodbyes for now, sweetie.”

The teenager bows her head, still a bit sheepish before waving a little with her fingers at Shanks. He gives her a warm grin and she can see the flush in Frej’s cheeks. The girl crosses her hands over her chest and unravels them in front of herself. Flowers bloom in her arms and their stalks clip into a perfect and  _ large _ bouquet in her arms. A thin vine wravels around them to bind them together and she nearly shoves the bouquet into Shanks’ arms before bolting into the ship. 

Siervaas and Shanks stare at her retreating form for a brief moment before breaking out into a laugh. 

* * *

They do leave that night, but they only set sail and lay anchor on another part of their island. They see fire on the estate and hear distant gunfire. She’d be a fool to stay in the direct line of fire, but she’d be just as much a fool to leave a fight where she knows devil fruits are involved. Frej eventually loses the light in her eyes as sleep coils around her. She sleeps quietly on a bed of grass while Siervaas waits and waits. 

It takes a while but she finally hears a small scuffling behind her and shuffling at her side as Frej sleepily sits up. All of their fruit crates are laid out on the deck of the ship. They have only a lantern and the moonlight to give them sight on the ship and protect them from being spotted. But she sees it. She watches as a fruit quivers and twists in on itself. As sharp edges spark out before recoiling, licking out and then finally settling. 

What a find! The Mera Mera no Mi. 

Frej shuffles over to look at it curiously before picking it up and inspecting it. It wasn’t like the girl had never seen one. She did eat one as an infant supposedly, but she’d seen several form before. She just didn’t know what Siervaas did with them after that. And it was safer that way. The less she knew the better. Frej didn’t seem to mind too much. 

She passed the fruit off to Siervaas who wrapped it delicately in silk. It was late and moving all the crates back would take a lot of energy from them both so Frej stepped forward and extended her hands in a wide gesture and the crates sank into the grass deck, through the wooden planks and gently sent down into place by vines. She brought her arms back together and the vines retracted, the wooden planks folded back together, and the grass melded back into place. 

Siervaas was quick to extend an arm out to catch the girl when she fell asleep. She was young and she was familiar with her abilities, but she didn’t have experience using them as much. It was only to be expected that the thirteen year old would pass out after something like that and her little flower show earlier. 

The green haired woman is a little upset that they do not get the Gomu Gomu no Mi back, but the Mera Mera no Mi technically has a higher value. It was a good exchange. Let Shanks have it. He made Frej pretty happy today. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for stopping to read this! It is very much so an OC-centric drabble story. There will be cameos from the Onepiece cast, however, this will focus on them as a series of character studies of mine and a friend’s two OCs! Chapters will be of varying lengths and not necessarily in chronological order!


End file.
